All I Want For Christmas
by attheturnofthetide
Summary: Arwen and her brothers are young elves, too young to experience the departure of their mother to the West. They struggle to stay strong. However, their father has given up and has fallen ill from heartache. Glorfindel and Lindir have volunteered to send for Lady Galadriel. But it's not only a matter of healing skill – it's whether or not Elrond is willing to recover.


All I Want for Christmas is You

An Elrond and Celebrían Fanfiction

_I. Beautiful Eyed_

Dark slivers of shadows danced on the ground as Lindir paced the marble floor. It was night in Rivendell, and all was still, save for the harpers playing soulful songs as the elves fell into what they called half-dreams.

Lindir's face was grey and his heart troubled; his lord and master had fallen ill. The healers could not find a remedy for Lord Elrond. In secret they knew he had lost the will to live and would not last long on the face of the earth.

It was not his time to depart. He had two sons and a daughter to take care of. Lindir buried his face in his hands and moaned. How was he to convince Lord Elrond that his life was not completely over?

It was lightly snowing outside: winter had fallen on Middle-Earth. Yet the harpers were plucking the strings of their harps, not heeding the cold winds that blew to and fro in the valley. Lindir knew they were doing this for their lord. This song was his favourite; Celebrían sang – no, _had_ sung – it to him very often. But what Lindir was not sure of was whether it helped Elrond's condition or not.

The song was longer than most but set at a lively and light tempo. Lindir thought about it just for the sake of distracting himself. There were several trills and lovely lines. The tune flitted and flew like a butterfly in spring. Lindir sighed. His friends would say he was being too stressful, but that was easy for them to say. _They _did not have to worry about a nearly dying Lord Elrond. They were probably preparing themselves for the annual Yule feast.

This song – it wasn't the typical lovey-dovey happy-ending sort of song; it was more of a celebration, or a comfort of sorts: the coming of spring, the slipping away of winter. It made even the crankiest elf smile, but however was very hard to play. The harpists were fumbling even now, but it did not matter. Most of the notes were fine, and the golden-haired elleth was a wonderful singer.

They were nearing the end, where the lively verses turned slower and faded away.

_Be with me, my love,_ sang the elf-maiden.

_Do not depart to the aisles where I_

_Cannot follow,_

_Remember what I say!_

_Beautiful eyed! For the sun is now shining down. _

_Fade not and remain with me._

_Fade not–_

_and remain with me._

With a resigned sigh and a strum of harp strings, the song ended. Lindir smiled at the harpers and quietly thanked them. But their worry was plain in their eyes: had the song helped Elrond, or had it harmed him?

"Rest, now," said Lindir. "I thank you for your song."

With reluctance, the harpers stood and left for their houses, all except for one. It was an elleth, one whose hair was unbraided, and was sparkling with snow.

"Rest," he insisted, seeing her shiver.

"No," she said. "How fares Lord Elrond?"

Lindir looked at her bluntly. "You are cold, my lady."

The elleth denied it with a swift shake of her head. But she was clearly cold; she was shivering violently and her mouth on the brink of turning from red-purple to red-blue.

It was not her fault, and she had clearly sacrificed a lot to play a song for Lord Elrond. She had rather half-wittedly chosen a dress that did not seem very warm. _Elleths! _Lindir frowned in concern.

"Would you like to come with me?" he said. "Lord Elrond's room is not far."

She smiled, and Lindir led her inside, where it was warmer.

They walked through winding halls and silent rooms until they came upon a doorway, its border carved into roses and leaves. The elleth– Lindir still did not know her name– stopped and glanced at him.

"I do not wish you any inconvenience, sir," she said. "If Lord Elrond does not wish me to pry, I will not be as rude as to enter the hospital wing without permission."

"I am sure he will appreciate your concern," Lindir said. "Let us see how Lord Elrond is."

They stepped into Lord Elrond's room in the hospital bay.

The sons of Elrond as well as seven healers, Lady Arwen, Glorfindel, and Erestor knelt around the bed. It was a tight fit, but they did not seem to notice. Seeing their visitors, Erestor and one of the twins arose (Lindir did not say it openly but he was not quite able to tell them apart) to greet them.

Both had pale, tired faces, unnaturally devoid of their usual light-heartedness. Elladan (_Master_ Elladan, he corrected himself)– at least, that was what Lindir assumed he was– inclined his head and smiled kindly. But Erestor's usual friendly smile was not present and a cloud of gloom had settled in its place.

"Is he better?" said Lindir.

Elladan shook his head. His wild, untamable hair was combed and he wore his tunic inside out. He also wore a thick cloak, as did everyone else, but that did not stop them from shivering.

It was not from cold, however. It was from fear.

Fear: it was radiating from everyone. Lindir could nearly see tendrils of it curling from Erestor, whose eyes were haunted as if he had seen the face of a Nazgûl. Even Lady Arwen, whose presence calmed and soothed many, was weeping and afraid.

"It has been three days that this illness has settled," said one of the healers. "The moment you left, Lord Elrond slipped into a dark and deep sleep. Not even Lady Arwen has been able to awaken him. I fear the song of the harpers only worsened his condition."

"It reminded him of Lady Celebrían," said another healer, whose face was wet with tears. "It was I who asked the harpers to play that song. I thought it would perhaps give him hope, but the scars Lord Elrond bears are far too deep. If only– if only the Lady of Light would come now!"

She burst into tears again and the healer next to her comforted her, whispering inaudible words in her ear.

"We shall send word to the Lady," said Elrohir. "Perhaps she will know what to do. Her healing powers go beyond physical sight, and healing both body and soul. Shall I ride to Lothlórien?"

"No," said Erestor. "I beg your pardon for contradicting you, but your father needs you with him along with Master Elladan and Lady Arwen. We shall send our fastest rider with our fastest horse, an elf we can trust."

"Shall I go?" said a voice. "I do not ride as swift as Elrohir, but I am accustomed to riding long distances."

It was a while until Lindir realized it was Glorfindel who spoke. The healers, as well as the two lords, were equally surprised and did not answer.

Glorfindel was revered and respected at a distance. Known throughout the elven realms as the great Balrog-slaying warrior of old, he was silent and deadly with the sword. Lindir knew many elves did not wish to even consider getting on Glorfindel's bad side. His sunny golden hair and handsome face may have seemed to hint at a kind and gentle personality, and had tempted many a maiden into flirtatious speech, but his icy blue eyes told everyone otherwise.

Lord Elladan was the first to realize that the Balrog-slayer was expecting an answer. He thought for a while, then nodded. "Yes, and you shall ride my horse. Bring with you another, for the journey may be dangerous."

"It might as well be," Lord Elrohir interrupted. His eyes were bleak, and tears were gathering at the corners. "What I worry is, my father's powers have protected Rivendell for a long time. With his strength fading, there may be trouble."

"That is why Glorfindel will ride swiftly," said a voice crisply. Lindir heard words tumbling one after another awkwardly out of his mouth, and he listened to himself, vaguely surprised. "I shall go with him and if we find any trouble on our way back, we will be capable of defending ourselves. I am sure that Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn will arrive in Rivendell with us in a matter of days."

Lady Arwen stood, recognition in her fair face. Lindir bowed as low as he could, hoping he didn't look as idiotic as he felt.

"I am a mere elf, my lady," he said. "I do not know how to spar, or to use a bow an arrow. I can only hope that when I return, I will have served my lords and lady well."

"You have served well already," said Lady Arwen. "This will be a long ride. A shadow has fallen over Rivendell, but soon it will be lifted. I am sure that my father will recover. In the meantime, I wish you all the best. Shadows may settle upon these lands but I have no doubt that the sun will shine after the storm."

Lady Arwen's words were enough to brighten the room. Erestor's face began turning into its usual colour, and the healers were no longer weeping. Elrohir and Elladan looked a bit hopeful.

"Do not worry," said Glorfindel. "We will return as fast as we can."

Lindir swallowed, reading the hidden message behind his words.

_We will return as fast as we can. Even if our horses can run no more and our bodies tire, we will return._

_We have to._


End file.
